


double vision

by 2davidbeckham3



Category: Football RPF
Genre: (Vaguely crack-y but give it a chance), 5+1 Fic, Attempt at Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2davidbeckham3/pseuds/2davidbeckham3
Summary: 5 times Sam sorta interacts with Carles Puyol and 1 time he talks to him in person.





	double vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahhhhrexa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhhrexa/gifts).



> Dear recip: I hope you like it! It ended up being a lot more humorous than I expected, but I hope you still enjoy.
> 
> Dear mods: Thank you for hosting such a wonderful exchange and for being so accommodating! I had a lot of fun participating, as always.
> 
> Original Prompt: _The five times Samuel Umtiti almost meets Carles Puyol and the one time he actually does._
> 
> Details: Set in the 2016/17 season ([photo](http://blaugr4na.tumblr.com/post/157998747718/puyols-last-goal-with-bar%C3%A7a-umtitis-first-goal))
> 
>  
> 
> (This kind of mentions Andrés a lot so I guess it{s a fitting homage? Him and Sam both live in the same area of Barcelona! Or so I think they did at one point? The blog that had their houses in a post deleted so, but yeah.)

**I**

 

Sam regrets not bringing sunglasses.

 

Well, it wouldn’t have been the best look for his debut, but he doesn’t know how people handle all the fanfare. After being blinded by another flash of the camera, he feels peculiarly thankful for his quiet rise through Lyon’s system.

 

Yet, it’s a small price to pay for living out his dream. The constant clicks of camera shutters following his every amplify the rush of adrenaline in his veins that he hopes isn’t obvious. Given the smiles Bartomeu keeps on throwing his way, it probably is, but, at least, Barca’s president is used to dealing with it.

 

 _“Welcome Samuel, I’m honored that you chose to sign with us,”_ Bartomeu had greeted in French, a move that took Samuel by surprise, his own practiced _Hola, es un placer poder estar aquí_ getting stuck in his throat. It probably was meant to make him feel more at home, the lack of a translator and Bartomeu’s full, undivided attention, but it did the opposite. Maybe it was the occasion and everything else put together, but, honestly, it was intimidating.

 

Still, Samuel did his best to nod along to what Bartomeu was saying, though he could barely pay attention.

 

“This team is more than a club, as you know,” Bartomeu explained, gesturing to the photographs on the wall while he gave an abbreviated museum tour while they walked to the press conference room.

 

“Yes,” Sam agreed, even though that wasn’t even the half of it. He could feel it, settling on his shoulders, his shaking hands steadied by a new emotion coursing through his veins, his nervous energy fading into pure excitement, determined to leave his own mark. He could see it, the combined weight of history and never-ending ambition reflected in the gleam of their silver trophies.

 

His eyes strayed to the images on the wall, lips quacking up in a small smile when he caught Puyol’s ecstatic grin while he lifted the second of many Champions’ League trophies into the air.

 

“We’re more like a family.”

 

Samuel already knew this. Carles Naval said the same exact thing when they talked on the phone a few days before. _“We’re really just a big family.”_ It was obvious by the by the way Don Naval called him before his flight, asking if there was anything he could to make Samuel’s transition easier, how he’d greeted him with a hug and insisted in Samuel calling him Carles.

 

“I’m glad to be a part of it.”

 

 

**II**

 

 

Painting was a lot harder than he thought it would be. Sam’s starting to think he should’ve taken up Andres Iniesta’s offer to help him move in and braved a few hours of awkward conversation that would’ve revolved mostly around him mispronouncing left in Spanish and giving his soon-to-be captain a confused look every time he said a sentence that wasn’t _“El hombre tiene doce manzanas.”_ Maybe if he’d downloaded Duolingo during the Euros, he would’ve gotten to the point where the annoying green owl would teach him how to say, “Please put that box in the kitchen” or “Do you think this ‘Pearl’ would look good with my ‘Cool Gray 11 C’ sofa or should I just go with ‘White’?”

 

Maybe it was too soon for him to start painting, but it was a small step for him to make his new house feel like a home. Yannick kept on sending him pictures from Lyon making Sam miss his mother’s home cooking more than anything these last few weeks. He could only imagine how the rest of the season would go.

 

Not wanting to get too homesick, Sam decided now was as good as a time as any to take a break. After stretching his arms over his head, he sat back and grabbed his phone from where he put it on top of one of the unopened test cans of paint. He could use this time to good use and finally put the rest of his teammates’ information in his phone, in case someone lived closer with a better grasp of French. _“In case you need anything,”_ Don Naval had said before handing him the list after Sam went to let him know that the move went well, a gesture made him feel more at home more than any of Bartomeu’s words did a few weeks before. _“This list should be updated with all of the new signings. I just got Alcácer’s information.”_

 

His phone nearly flew out of his hand after he turned it on, vibrating non-stop because of all the notifications he’d had missed while he’d had it off as it charged. He can’t do much else but watch while family’s voicemails get pushed up by a mass of Whatsapp messages from his new teammates.

 

From what Sam could tell as the notifications danced across his screen, he’d been placed into at least three different chats and congratulated by members of the squad old and new.

 

Finally, his phone stopped and he’s left staring with one last, personal message.

 

From: **Carles Puyol**

Benvingut, Samuel! Félicitations!

 

Honestly, he’s speechless at the reception, though it brings a small smile to his face. “Més que una familia,” he mumbles into the empty living room, much brighter than it was a few minutes before. It probably was just a coincidence, Don Naval likely had just emailed the information that Sam got in print, but, it was an auspicious beginning, how his new team brushed off his homesickness even if for a little while.   

 

Sam spends the next few minutes going through each message and manually adding people to his phone. He doesn’t get very far, between the messages that keep on making him lose his spot and the fact that everyone’s decided to put their nicknames instead of their real ones, some easier to figure out than others.

 

Sam’s just reached a few messages between two “Princesa”s before someone sends another message. 

 

From: **Piquenbauer**

>> it’s time to update your contact photos!!!

>> send in selfies

>> thank SOMEONE who dyed his hair BLONDE and grew his BEARD out

>> I keep on forgetting that atrocity when we video chat and I’d like to not be surprised next time.

>> K. thnx.

 

Some people are just sending in recent intagram posts, with Rafinha sending in an old squad photo as his temporary image. It takes a lot of weight off his shoulders, the fact that he doesn’t have to pic the perfect photo, though he still wonders if he should send an obvious selfie using the Whatsapp camera like Mascherano.

 

He decides to follow in his footsteps, when the rest of the squad seems to be doing the same, Iniesta’s very obvious selfie-arm making him laugh out loud.

 

From: **Piquenbauer**

>> alright.

>> you know what time it is now.

>> getting the ugliest pictures of the staff as possible

>> I love you Andres but this year im gonna beat you.

 

From: **Paquito Salas**

>> ??? what

 

From: **Javier Mascherano**

>> It’s a dumb “contest” that one hosts every season.

>> You have to get the most embarrassing photos of the staff or retired players as possible.

>> Rafa Pol is the easiest to get, so he’s worth the least points. Luis Enrique the most.

>> Whoever wins before the first international break gets concert tickets.

>> I won second place last year after catching Unzué in the middle of a sneeze.

 

And that’s how Sam ends up with a lot of of “embarrassing” pictures of Carles Puyol saved to his phone.

 

 From: **Piquenbauer**

>> already winning!!!!

 

 

**III**

 

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“If you admit that you’re just here to play with my dog.”

 

Lucas frowned, leveling Sam with his attempt at a harsh look, though Lucas looked as intimidating as Masta when he got annoyed at him for not letting him run around the flowers.

 

“Tiziri’s out and I thought you’d like the company.”

 

“And it’s just a coincidence that you came over after Masta’s walk and when I’m preparing lunch?” Sam quirked a brow, grinning outright at the sight of Lucas’ embarrassed blush.

 

“Coincidence,” he mumbled as he shouldered past Sam, walking directly towards the living room. Sam closed the door with a shake of his head, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Lucas too familiar with his schedule.

 

“Is Tiziri visiting her cousin?” And, maybe, Sam’s too familiar with Lucas’ life, too.

 

“Yep,” Lucas nodded before settling down on the floor in front of the sofa. At the sight of a visitor, Masta sprinted out his bed, tail wagging when he noticed it was Lucas in her home. “She might be gone for a few days,” he added, eyes never leaving the ball of fluff in front of him, “Can I stay over?”

 

“Do you want anything else?” Sam asked, obviously exasperated. 

 

“You’re the best,” Lucas looked up with a grin, laughing when Sam shook his head.

 

“I never said yes,” Sam called out over his shoulder while walking back into the kitchen to get back to his _Fideuà._ He’d rather hide out a bit longer before Lucas called him out over his homesickness when he’d inevitably notice Sam’s long stay in the kitchen. Still, there was no better way than making this new country his home than familiarizing himself with its cuisine.

 

It had already been a few months and he’d easily settled into the team, for the most part. He slotted into the backline with relative ease, even though he still preened at Geri and Marc’s compliments.  Yet, this was still his first time living so far from home. He always loved cooking with his mother, standing at close to her hip ever since he could remember, his chest overfilling with joy whenever he simply helped her stir a pot of _sese_ plantains.

 

He was careful to not look up from the recipe he printed from the internet when Lucas came in. “It’s better that you’re here, actually.” It was a pretty obvious tell of homesickness, every time he decided to make something labor intensive, though Sam had a feeling that Lucas was going to be mad at him for not reaching out sooner; Lucas’ _carbonnade flamande_ did wonders the last time he was over. “I’m going over to Andrés house for dinner.”

 

Lucas spluttered, nearly dropping the bottle of water he had in his hand. _“Wait, what_ ,” he choked, making Sam look up after hearing his shocked tone. _“You’re going to—_ Jordi told me those are legendary.”

 

Sam furrowed his brows, frowning at Lucas’ exaggerated reaction. “Andrés didn’t make it sound like a big deal.” He didn’t considering this was a long-standing invitation, not to mention the fact that their walks seemed pretty normal. Well, as normal as they could be considering they were unplanned most of the time, and Andrés usually crossed paths with him while he was walking Masta, though Sam thinks that Valeria’s caught on to the fact that he walks his dog around the time when she gets home from school.

 

Lucas continued to gape at him. “What are you going to take over?”

 

“I—” Sam hesitated, “have to bring him something?” Sam thought he was past the point of using Google translate to answer Andres’ dinner invitation with no major flaws.

 

“I think you do, it’s customary, right?”

 

Sam cursed under his breath before silently handing his metal spoon to Lucas. “Stir,” he ordered, gesturing towards the rice before picking up his phone to message the group chat he had with Neymar and Rafinha for help. They’d known Andrés for longer and he couldn’t risk his message being noticed in the team’s group chat, even though Jordi had been engaged in a meme war with Rakitic for days.  

 

He shouldn’t have been surprised at the fact that he got similar shocked responses from his two friends, the chat a constant flood of emojis, laughter, and question marks at his request.

 

>> rsrsrsrsrs ?????

>> khe? voce khe???

 

>> Como???

>> How were you able to get an invite, even Ney hasn’t gone to his house for dinner yet.

 

At that same moment, Sam got another message.

 

>> Caught the highlights of your last game, here in Germany. You did great.

 

The kitchen smells faintly of burning. The litany of curses that come from Lucas’ direction don’t give him any time to regret his message.

 

>> Thank you so much.  
>> I’m going over to Andres’ house for dinner today, for the first time.  
>> Should I take him anything special?

 

_“It’s fine! It’s fine, I promise.”_

 

Sam sighed, seeing a dark could of definitely not-steam rising over the pan. This would never happen at home. “It doesn’t look fine.” His phone buzzes in his hands and he nearly drops it after reading the screen.

 

From: **Carles Puyol**

>> Wow.

>> already

>> His dinners are something special

>> Give me a moment

**_Voice Message: (0:31 secs)_ **

 

Suddenly, Lucas’ mess seemed easy to handle.

 

**IV**

“Geri, I don’t know why you host a pool party when it’s too cold to go into the pool.”

 

“Jordi, I don’t know why you’re complaining because I’m giving you free food.”

 

“They have this fight every year,” Javier muttered to Sam before turning to Ter Stegen with an annoyed who just grinned sunnily in response.

 

“Three years and you’d think I’d be used to it.” Marc admitted with a shrug, smiling faintly in the direction of Jordi and Geri’s bickering. “I still don’t know why I’m invited.”

 

That, Geri heard. “Because we’re part of the team’s defense.” He exclaimed, cutting off Jordi mid-sentence. “You count Marquitos. You’re our last line of defense.” He emphasized his point by walking behind Marc’s chair and grabbing his shoulders. Geri proceeded to give Marc the most inefficient massage in existence as he squeezed his shoulders after every word. “We. Appreciate. You.”

 

Sam couldn’t hold back his snickers and he doubted his beer can was doing anything to cover them up. Beside him, Lucas looked on with a small smile on his face, though Sam knew his calm reaction was due in part to Geri’s slurred words that were difficult to understand.

 

Aleix nodded solemnly from Geri’s right. “You can never have enough team bonding.”

 

“Defenders-only bonding,” Geri corrected, lifting his beer can to toast the air.

 

“But Busi isn’t here,” Aleix pointed out after joining in Geri’s toast.

 

“He’s a midfielder,” Came Geri’s flippant response.

 

To Sam’st left, he heard Masche snot derisively. “So am I. I guess it doesn’t matter, though, since I go to both get togethers.”

 

 

Sam got bathed in Estrella Damm after Geri spluttered in surprise, unfortunately in Geri’s direct line of site. Marc, however, now had a compelling excuse to take a dip in the pool and take advantage of the chlorine to get rid of the alcohol soaking his hair. “You’ve gone to both parties?” Geri coughed before clutching his hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture, “Traitor,” he hissed.

 

“It’s my favored position.”

 

Geri was half-listening at this point, quickly pulling out his cellphone from his back pocket, ignoring Marc cursing in German in front of him “Tell me my parties are better, Javi.” Sam could imagine Geri’s response in the group chat already, a paragraph-long message about the attackers stealing his backline. Of course, ignoring his own goal-scoring tendencies to justify his hosting an exclusive event for the team’s defense.

 

Instead of agreeing to Geri’s request Masche, always the diplomat, responded, “Apples to oranges, Geri.”

 

Except, Geri probably didn’t hear. Sam shared a look with Lucas after noticing that Geri had his arm poised like he was going to do a video call.

 

_“Geri, what—”_

 

“Can you believe Masche’s a traitor?”

 

From what Sam had gathered up to this point, Geri’s antics were all around unsurprising, it still startled a peal of from him after he heard who responded.

 

_“Do you know what time it is in Bora Bora?”_

 

Lucas stared at him, puzzled at his reaction. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Aleix looking at Geri with a similar confused expression. Of course, the only reason why he recognized the person on the other line was because he’d taken started leaving Sam voice messages since he preferred them over texting.

 

“Puyol,” Sam mouthed, grinning at surprised Lucas’ response.

 

“How do you—”

 

“Say ‘hi’ everyone,” Geri interrupts, turning his phone to the crowd.

 

Despite the sunny weather, Sam could clearly make out a head of brown curly hair and Puyi’s furious expression.

 

_“GERARD, THIS HAS BETTER BE IMPORTANT. I’M ON VACATION.”_

**V**

“I still don’t know why you can’t do this yourself.”

 

“Because your Spanish is better,” Lucas protested, giving Sam an unhelpful shove towards Lucho’s office, nearly making him trip.

 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Sam huffed, scowling in Lucas’ direction. “It’s not like you leave me any other choice.”

 

As they turn the corner, Sam willed his expression to soften before turning to Lucas, again. “You’ll have to do this yourself, at one point.”

 

Lucas avoided his gaze. For a few moments, their footsteps were the only sounds that filled the hall before Lucas spoke up again. “I know, but not today.”

 

“I’ll come over before dinner and help you with your homework.”

 

“Sounds good,” Lucas grinned, though the expression quickly slid off his face at the sound of loud voices coming from Lucho’s office.

 

Sam stopped abruptly before they could hear them approach. Lucas’ momentum carried his chin uncomfortably into Sam’s shoulder.

 

“Shh,” Sam hissed, not wanting to be caught.

 

With a hand over his chin, Lucas waved Sam forward with a shrug. It didn’t sound like a fight, even though he couldn’t really tell what the people were saying. After a few moments of weighing his options – and allowing Lucas to recover –  Sam tip-toed closer to the office while rubbing his shoulders. If it was just Unzué and Lucho discussing tactics, they’d be okay with the interruption.

 

The closer they got, Sam realized that the reason why he couldn’t make out what was being said was because half the conversation was being carried on in Spanish and the other Catalan – definitely not Lucho and Unzué. Right when he was thinking to turn back, Lucas urged him forward with a hand on his back.

 

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Sam whispered with a shake of his head, but kept walking forward.

 

The door was open, and, oddly enough, the first thing that caught his eye was how Lucho’s keyboard rested against his computer monitor. He then saw Lucho with his back turned getting something from the bookshelf, talking to the figure perched on his desk.

 

“I still don’t understand why you have to go.”

 

“Because I want to. I’m tired, Puyi.”

 

Sam was definitely going to have a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow. This time it was Lucas’ nose that hit him, he noticed, after whirling around.

 

“Sam, what—”

 

“Nope, we’re getting out of here. We're talking to Unzué. Call him."

**VI**

Sam has to give it to Marc, he ended up recommending him a nice restaurant after all his heckling. Sam still thinks he didn’t deserve it, but, then again, he knows how goalkeepers feel about their cleansheets, even when the team wins the game, regardless.

 

Still, he his recommendation didn’t prepare him for the atmosphere of the restaurant.

 

Or how to have a conversation with Carles Puyol over dinner.

 

“Do you know what this sauce is made out of?”

 

Of course, Marc had to recommend a trendy fusion restaurant that had everything written in English. “Arándanos,” the waiter replied with a thick accent.

 

Not wanting to try his luck, Sam just nodded, “I’ll have this then.”

 

“Me too,” Carles agreed. He pulled out his phone when the waiter was out of sight. “I’m googling the dish.”

 

Sam nodded, and, in order to do something with his hands, did the same. “It’s a blueberry sauce.”

 

“But arándanos are cranberries.”

 

They looked at each other in confusion before showing each other their phones.

 

They burst out laughing.

 

“How late is it to get Andrés to cook us dinner?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest, this was actually my first time writing any of these characters, so I hope I did them justice! (Even if they didn't share a lot of scenes together)
> 
> \- [Arándano](http://www.wordreference.com/es/translation.asp?tranword=blueberry) // [Arándano](http://www.wordreference.com/es/translation.asp?tranword=cranberry)  
> \- [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZlfXCq6ZdI) is Carles Naval, he's in charge of making sure the players settle in.  
> \- Here ([gray](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/96/55/20/965520f0898f2ffe94ffb7fe0154e22f.jpg), [ white](https://i1.wp.com/newperspectivepainting.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/shades-of-white.jpg?resize=601%2C350&ssl=1)) is where I got the references to paint colors  
> \- Here are some examples of [ Cameroonian food. ](https://www.africanbites.com/cameroon-food/) In this[ interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdGQhZygh6Y) Sam mentions that he's close to his mom, so I wanted to pay an homage to that. His older brother's name is Yannick! [(Carbonnade Flammade)](http://frenchcountryfood.com/recipes/with-meat/carbonade-flamande.html)  
> \- [Here](https://www.fcbarcelona.com/football/first-team/news/2017-2018/quiz-fc-barcelona-players-dogs) is his dog's name, I forgot if it's a boy or a girl, sorry.  
> \- Here are some interactions between Sam and Lucas ([Face to Face](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfzfR1eb1rQ), [Sam making fun of Lucas' Spanish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQH6C0d6u3Q), [ One of my favorite photos of the both of them together.](https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/AByQEYm2TGyBfTqSPvRlAO8otYA=/39x0:1160x747/920x613/filters:focal\(39x0:1160x747\):format\(webp\)/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/50129215/umtiti-digne-control-antidoping-1468403050079.0.0.jpg))  
> \- Paquito Salas is Alcácer = his name is referencing a series on Netflix about a famous Spanish journalist? I think.  
> \- More instances/correlations with Sam and Puyi: [ Sam's first goal with Barcelona](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdGQhZygh6Y), [Horrible faceswap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4yyxA27TdU) that I might address in a sequel (That has more Rafa and Neymar). Also, Sam wears the Number 5 for the national team now! (I hope he'll wear the 5 for Barcelona some point in the future!)  
> \- [ What are those????](https://tribuna.com/fcbarcelona/en/news/2575040/)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments appreciated. [Social media handles will be added after reveals]


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